"Shane, how did I get here?" I ask the phantom who resides at the borders of my vision. "Desire." He said; Pride's remnants engulf me as I return three hours before my decay. Transparent crystals and brass casings reign over the local government's treasury. Short rectangular papers, 3x7 inches, brilliant stones cut in Asscher and round in myriads of colors with dark brownish yellow metal bricks half the length of the dollars.
"Does a small city, in a heavily populated state, in a capitalist country, matter in the grand scheme of existence?" Shane asks. "When you're hungry." My stomach replies. "You missed the true treasure," Shane responded matter-of-factly. "What then?" Like an unwelcomed breeze when naked and soaked, bewildering shame encroached as I questioned him.
" The viscous crimson black mineral-filled liquid flows as creeks spread into puddles akin to wilderness. The vermillion drops graffitied to the walls because of your lack of resistance. " Shane explains. " How much will it cost me?" I trembled. "How much did you waste?" He queried. " How much did I waste, Shane?" I relented. Suddenly the crystal fractals halted their descent, the frost in me withered, and wounds vanished. I choose again.
About the Creator
OneWithPen
I write fiction and poetry focused on inner conflict, fractured relationships, and the quiet moments where people confront who they are. Read at your own pace. Stay if something resonates.
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Comments (1)
Excellent work!